I dream the Florida of Body Heat With Kathleen Turner twisting in her dress, Wind chimes unsettling my sweaty sleep And lovers marinating in deceit.
It is a place of sudden lusciousness Where sheriffs know to bury bodies deep, The trailer parks are called communities And reptiles wait for opportunities.
As swamp gas rises near the local drive, Old men debate an alien event.
I curse slow traffic off I-95 Though handmade signs remind me to repent.
Past reeds and strip-mall parking lots I drive, Still wondering where Kathleen Turner went.
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11/24/2009 6:33:02 PM. #.26# You Are Here:
Sunshine State by AM Juster